


Skin Symphony

by hchannibloom (bleepin_ufo)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 12:28:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8285864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleepin_ufo/pseuds/hchannibloom
Summary: Alana is reminded of Hannibal one Saturday night and needs to see him (well more than see him actually). Dubcon.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [@murakisses](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=%40murakisses).



> I'm not really into dubcon but the idea of Alana taking a more dominant role appealed. Inspired as always by my wonderful muse @murakisses

It was Saturday evening, and, Alana lamented, things weren’t going to plan. Ten minutes ago she’d been seated beside Margot listening to the Baltimore Philharmonic play Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. But as the opening bars played, Alana found herself overcome with emotion.

She’d first heard the symphony playing in the background in Hannibal’s kitchen as they prepared a meal to celebrate her landing the job at Georgetown. Alana had been taken with it, and Hannibal had insisted they listen to it together the following weekend.

There had been wine involved, and in a moment of foolishness, encouraged by the passionate strains of music, Alana had let her feelings get the better of her. 

Hannibal’s rejection was humiliating more than anything, though he never belittled Alana for her attraction to him.

Now here she was hailing a cab, clad in a magnificent grey silk gown, hair perfectly coiffed, black pearls strung around her delicate neck. She’d told Margot she was ill, but she couldn’t go home to Morgan. Motherhood was the last thing on her mind.

No, the only thing she could think was that she _needed_ to see Hannibal.

The night manager looked startled at her arrival, fishtail skirt swishing along the floor.

“Dr Bloom?”

“Good evening. I need Lecter restrained. Immediately.” She didn’t stop for acknowledgement of her instructions, or to answer the curiosity in the manager’s eyes.

By the time she’d reached her office, she could see on the cameras the orderlies were preparing Hannibal as per her instructions. Once they had left, she sashayed down the hallway, slipping past the anteroom and entering the cell.

“You are setting new standards in what is acceptable hospital attire, Alana. I feel positively underdressed.” Hannibal smirks.

Suddenly Alana stops short. _What the hell are you doing?_ she asks herself.

“I was at the symphony.” She answers without looking at Hannibal.

“By all accounts an enjoyable evening out. Which leads me to ask to what I owe the pleasure of your visit? I’m sure Margot will be missing your company.”

Alana loiters close to Hannibal, strapped into submission on his trolley. She’s not really sure why she came anymore.

“I’m sorry. I’m just going to go.”

“ _Alana_.” Hannibal’s tone is pleading, comforting and menacing at once. A combination she was never able to ignore.

As Alana turns back to face Hannibal, there are tears in her eyes. “They’re playing Beethoven’s Ninth.”

“Our song, as it were.” Hannibal supplies, understanding instantly.

She steps closer now, stroking back Hannibal’s silver blonde hair and caressing his cheek with the back of her hand. Her eyes lock to his, brimming with tears.

“Why can’t you love me like you love Will?” Alana whispers.

Hannibal’s gaze is steady, his tone not unkind. “Because no matter how hard you try, you will never understand me the way Will does, Alana. But I do love you, in my own way.”

Alana now presses her cheek to his, allowing her hot tears to flow down his stubbled chin and lean neck.

After some minutes she pulls back, sniffling. She needs to be close to Hannibal, to connect with him. But she’s not naive enough to free him from his bonds.

Instead Alana trails her hands down his sides, feeling for his arms in the confines of the straitjacket. She drops to her knees before him. The thin silk of her dress does little to protect Alana's knees from the hard linoleum, but she doesn't care.

Her hands stroke lightly up Hannibal’s inner thighs, teasing at the apex. Alana repeats the movement until she can see his muscles twitch in response.

“Alana.” His tone is a warning, even if he’s coming up short on reasons not to want this. Although Alana’s actions are currently merely a suggestion, Hannibal knows all too well that she knows his body intimately, knows how to bring him pleasure better than anyone else.

She is undeterred by Hannibal’s feeble resistance, raking fingernails along his thighs and nuzzling his length through the fabric. 

Hannibal tries to think of anything to distract himself from the soft brushes of Alana’s face against his half-hard cock. But even thoughts of Will are futile, because Alana’s scent has permeated the cell.

Alana begins to unbutton the jumpsuit, and as he feels her fingers working at the buttons, Hannibal writhes. “Alana, _please_.” 

There is no way she can misinterpret his plea as one for her to continue, so Alana crawls her way back up Hannibal’s body. With his cock in hand, she fixes him with her gaze. “You want me to stop?” She asks, stroking back and forth over his frenulum with feather light touch.

Hannibal thrusts into Alana’s hand. In truth it just feels so good to be touched, and it’s something Alana has always been exceptionally good at. He doesn’t answer her question, at least not verbally. But his hardened cock and shallow breaths speak for themselves.

Alana begins to kiss his neck, leaving lipstick marks on his skin and the collar of the straitjacket. She presses her body against his, moaning softly as she slips back down to her knees.

Her lips brush lightly along his shaft before Alana closes her mouth over the head of Hannibal’s cock, suckling his salty precum. She feels him strain against his bonds, hips rising to meet the expert flutter of her tongue against the head of his cock.

She can hear him pant as she suckles his length, one hand diving into the jumpsuit and rubbing slow and firm against his perineum.

“Fuck, Alana,” Hannibal hisses. The trolley shakes as he thrusts against her mouth. She moves closer, opening her throat to him.

The sudden constriction around Hannibal’s cock is too much, and he whimpers, spraying come down Alana’s throat. Like the good girl she is she swallows every drop, sucking his cock clean as his erection fades.

When she gets to her feet, Alana’s face is smeared with lipstick. She carefully buttons the jumpsuit, feeling calmer now.

Hannibal looks at her with something resembling pity. “Come here, Alana.” He requests softly.

She closes the step between them, burying her face in his neck, finally letting herself feel how much she _misses_ him. It’s not just the sex, but the easy companionship.

Alana allows herself to linger there, stealing the occasional kiss, until the light of morning begins to filter through the skylight. Reluctantly, with a final kiss and silent acknowledgement of attraction, she departs, leaving her heart in the cell.


End file.
